Peace, Joy, Serenity, Love, and Light

That's how my friend Miss C signs all of her email. I send all of those to her and more as she recovers from surgery.

I'll be making a meal for her soon. I think I like that my first two full cooking experiences in recent memory, however simple, have been for friends in crisis. Not because they're in crisis, of course, but because I can help out, after receiving so much help from so many for so long.

An Apple Day

It's the very beginning of apple season here in Connecticut even though it is not near fall yet. But my mind is turned to apples, especially because Mama Teacher asked if we would be having our annual Applepalooza party again. The answer will probably be yes, if only so I can make the decadent apple dessert here, Miss R's Apple Crumb Cake. We've always had so many wonderful apple treats at Applepalooza (see here and here). And it's a great way to celebrate the season, both the fall and the beginning of school. I think I'm ready for a party.

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Miss R's Apple Crumb Cake

1 1/2 cups sugar

2 teaspoons vanilla

2 eggs

1 1/2 sticks butter, softened

2 teaspoons baking powder

3 cups flour

1 can apple pie filling--she uses Comstock (frozen fruit doesn't work)

Preheat oven to 350F.

Mix all ingredients except apple pie filling and form into a dough ball. Divide ball in two.

Grease a 9x13 pan. Press one dough ball into pan. Spread apple filling over dough. Crumble other ball in teaspoon-size crumbs over the top. Sprinkle with cinnamon.

Bake for 40-45 minutes.

Miss R

Falling for a Plan

Continuing on a previous post about how quiet and clean the house is, I'm getting a good preview of what the school year will be like. And, while it's bittersweet now, with the end of summer fun, I'm also looking forward to fall and new experiences and the like.

As I've told you, I'm participating in the 30 Day Vegan Workshop hosted by Heather at Beauty That Moves. And because I'm not able to do a 100% vegan right now, I'm focusing on the self-care side of whole and natural living. I've been doing a self-refresh ritual around 3 pm, with brushing my teeth, combing my hair, rinsing my face, and washing my glasses. I've also started rearranging parts of our environment, keeping the useful and beautiful, redistributing the rest. To these ends, I'm reading a lot of the other participants' blogs and the recommended resources. And, as you know, once you get started, the web expands outwards leading you to all sorts of places.

Besides others' fun days of summer and their experiences setting up their kitchens for the workshop, I've read about a 30 day mom challenge, home management notebooks, the whole world of Pinterest, menu planning, Montessori approaches for home, and so much more. I've also found books, such as The Rhythm of Family by Amanda Soule, Simplicity Parenting by Kim John Payne, Feeding the Whole Family by Cynthia Lair, Organized Simplicity by Tsh Oxenreider, and Super Natural Cooking by Heidi Swanson. And so, I've got some organizational plans in the works to keep me on task so I don't spend whole days doing nothing all alone while the kids are in school. Which in turn will help me be a better mom and partner when everyone else gets home from their day, making all of our days better. Think of it as my professionalization of motherhood and housewifery (an extension, as it were, of my more philosophical or spiritual musings on those. I guess it's theory and practice?). I know, I've waxed poetic about these things before, probably on a semi-annual basis (see here and here and here and here)--yeah, I'm much better at thinking and writing about it than doing it (an avoidance mechanism, for sure)--but I'm finding practical tips and tools to do it. A daily planner, an organized budget, a compendium of important legal and medical paperwork, a yearly schedule of things not to miss, a binder of tried-and-true recipes, ideas for fun family activities.

Beyond cleaning the kitchen and clutter, paying the bills and planning our family calendar, and all the other household maintenance activities for which there are myriad checklists and such, this is what I really want to do everyday, by myself and with my family:

• Read something.
• Learn something
• Create something.
• Work on a work-in-progress.
• Clean something.
• Connect with someone.
• Be outdoors some.
• Meditate.
• Exercise.

And I know just where to look for help.

Kung Fu Camping

The kids are halfway through kung fu camp and loving it! The first day they came home sweaty and, no sooner were they in the door, Bud did a headstand. He can actually almost do it freestanding but prefers to use the wall for support. They love the food--"chicken and broccoli with soy sauce in a round silver container--and we got to choose!!" They've played various games from their teacher's childhood in China, including "Mother Hen, Baby Chicks, and Hawk" and something called "Triangle," where you chase people to tag them into your group and the biggest group wins. And lots of ping pong. (And a poking game that they and another, older girl they met at tournament, play together.) They have even meditated, first lying on the floor and then the next day, sitting up with legs crossed and hands on knees. "Mom, you think about your breathing and your nose," Bud explained. They both like it. They especially have liked learning Chinese characters and phrases, having forgotten completely every word from their two courses in Mandarin including the fact that they ever did take Chinese! Sigh. Anyway, they're relearning "hello" and such, plus "I take Chinese kung fu."

Oh, yeah. And they're learning a new kung fu form, too.

Quiet and Clean

That's right. My house is both quieter and cleaner than usual.

And, frankly, as much as I complain (generally about the latter), I'm not sure I like it.

Yep, both of these have occurred because the kids are at camp all day. There are no toys on the floor to step on, no dirty clothes to trip over, no snacks not cleaned up after. But also no art projects they've worked on, no costumes they've worn to act out stories, no games they've played, no Lego projects they've constructed.

It's just clean. And neat. And quiet.

Messes indicate that the kids have been here having lots of fun. And there's just going to be a lot less of that soon, perhaps sooner than I anticipated.

Fears and Frustrations

This will fall under the category of "TMI" for some of you as it regards me and my OB/GYN.

She prescribed the mini-pill, or Progestin, to help decrease inflammation that is stressing out my back during my cycle. I would probably have started it this weekend.

Except last night, researching the medication--something we now always do having had to second-guess several doctors (remember my first physiatrist and the SI-injection thing?)--I discovered that it's contraindicated for women who had gestational diabetes because, according to a USC study, the American Diabetes Association, and even the WHO, it triples a woman's chance of developing Type 2 diabetes. Tripled. From about 8% to more than 25%. Those aren't good odds. Which is why all those groups say not to prescribe the mini-pill to those women.

To me.

And I'm mad. I'm mad that my doctor didn't know. Or knew and didn't connect the two. I'm mad that I got that close to taking something that could cause a lot more trouble than the cyclical back trouble I have. I'm mad that I always have to second guess and double check and not trust these doctors. And finally I'm mad that there's now just one less thing I can do to help my back.

Good Evening

Time Travel

I was transported to another era this morning. The colonial era, of course. I had historic house training today and, at one point, I went outside to recline on the bench (even I get museum legs after almost 2 hours upright). The overcast sky diffused the gentle light across the little garden of the house, the herbs and plants blowing in the unseasonably cool breeze. There's nothing like hints of fall in New England, especially in the garden of a colonial house.

Of Sunshowers and Rainbows

To Begin with the Beginning

Paraphrasing Dickens, I'm excited today to begin at the beginning of the 30 Day Vegan Workshop hosted by Beauty That Moves. As I mentioned previously, I can't focus as exclusively on vegan food as I had originally planned, but I am striving to meet other wholesome, whole-living goals. And today was all about self-care.

Continuing the reorganization of my environment started this weekend, I cleared my desk of its accumulated papers and emptied my nightstand of all the detritus that had accumulated during my 6 weeks of bed rest. It looks less like a hospital side table and more like a nightstand now. In fact, while our house-decorating style will always be more Victorian horror vacui than modernist simplicity, I'm coming to embrace several aspects of wabi-sabi, the Japanese appreciation for beauty in used, old, or otherwise imperfect objects. In cleaning out my magazines, I came across an article in Mother Earth News (February/March 2011) that elucidated several of the principles, including, with my own descriptions:

• cultivate slowness, which reminds me of "when you wash the rice, wash the rice" and other Zen mindfulness teachings
• cultivate vision, or really look at what is in front of you
• cultivate craft--I recently heard of the "slow craft" movement (called "slow clothes" in this article on sewing in Brooklyn)
• cultivate cleanliness, going back to Zen, this reminds me of much of Karen Maezen Miller's writings, including her book Hand Wash Cold
• cultivate solitude, a "mommy time-out" to meditate for me
• cultivate space, space and light being two major aesthetic principles
• cultivate silence, which for me is turning off the noise of technology
• cultivate sabi, or respecting the beauty that comes with age and history
• cultivate soul, by embracing people over technology in what you buy, keep, and do
• cultivate imperfection . . . because I won't be able to enact all of these all the time!
• cultivate hospitality, so that I have a warm drink and a treat on hand for friends
• cultivate simplicity, again people over things, experiences over objects

It makes me want to re-evaluate every room in our house, taking out that which is simply there and leaving that which is most beautiful, most useful, and most meaningful. I also want to re-read with the kiddos Wabi-Sabi, the children's book by Mark Reibstein and Ed Young about the cat and the philosophy.

Finally, after all that cleaning, I've also done my treadmill exercises, spent some time outside during a break in the rain, and even brushed my teeth, washed my face, and cleaned my glasses midday for a little personal rejuvenation. Which is exactly what this course is giving me.

My "Food Studio"

As I've mentioned, I'm participating in the 30 Day Vegan Workshop via Beauty That Moves. It officially starts Monday but there was some prep work for us to do, from downloading recipes and shopping lists to watching an intro video. And there was a post about setting up a whole-foods and cooking friendly kitchen.

I already have my utensils in big containers and my beans in recycled jelly jars and my oils and S&P on the counter.And I'd gotten rid of most of the plastic awhile back. Though, my mostly Penzey's spices are spread out in two different places, being too numerous to put in my little cabinet (and the basement entrance, with shelving, gets too much sun to store spices there).

But I still had work to do. Well, that "I" is rhetorical. I still had work for Mama to do. Namely, relocating the contents of many of my cabinets (yes, I think of the kitchen as mine) so that I could reach everything I might need to do the little bit of stovetop and crockpot cooking I can manage--collander, Corning ware, mixing bowls. I couldn't reach them where I used to store them anymore so we fiddled with our organization and found an easy-to-reach shelf for everything I would need regularly. Sure that means it's a rather odd collection all on one shelf, but it works for me now. And that's the point of a "food studio," to borrow Heather Bruggeman's words: a place where I can comfortably create food.

That was last night. Today I put a few finishing touches on things. I washed down the giant magnetic chalkboard that takes up one wall of my kitchen, sorting and saving artwork from the end of kindergarten; it's now ready for the new school year in two weeks. I cleared off some of the clutter on the refrigerator door, moving papers and moving magnets to the chalkboard. Then I rearranged the windowsill above my sink. I've put one of our homemade candles in its little Old Sturbridge Village candleholder there, along with my blue "hopes and dreams" bank decorated with an orange cat and a gray cat. Finally, I hung up a prism because I love to see rainbows dancing around the room, which faces not quite due-west, which means rainbows while I prepare dinner. Lastly, I'm thinking of painting three rocks or shells with the words "big mind," "joyful mind," and "mom mind" a la How to Cook Your Life about Edward Espe Brown.

Actually, I'm inspired to paint the whole room, the one room in the house we never painted; it's just plain white. But that will have to wait some.

The kitchen, indeed the whole house, is unusually quiet and still this afternoon, with the kids at the beach with Mama. But it's ready for action. And our first kitchen activity will be making a meal of baked spaghetti pie and strawberry "risotto" for our friend who is struggling with adapting to her daughter's new Type 1 diabetes diagnosis.

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Spaghetti Pie

4 cups cooked spaghetti (about 1/2 pound uncooked)--I'm using whole wheat

1-10 oz package frozen chopped broccoli, thaed and squeezed dry

1 cup shredded smoked mozzarella cheese

1/2 cup part-skim ricotta cheese

1/4 cup finely grated Parmesan cheese

1 large egg, beaten

1 teaspoon Italian seasoning

1 1/2 cups marinara sauce, warmed in the microwave

chopped parsley leaves

Preheat oven to 350F and coat 9" springform pan (I'm using a foil pie plate) with nonstick spray.

Stir the spaghetti, broccoli, cheeses, egg, and Italian seasonings together in large bowl. Scrape in pan and level the top.

Bake 30 minutes or until golden. Cool about 5 minutes and then remove sides of springform pan. Cut into 6 wedges. Serve with marinara and parsley.

Weight Watchers Eat! Play! Move!

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Strawberry Risotto

1/2 cup low or non-fat strawberry yogurt (not the fruit-on-the-bottom kind)--make into yogurt cheese by straining in a sieve lined with wet paper towel/cheesecloth/paper coffee filter set over a jar for about 6 hours

2 1/2 cups low or non-fat milk

zest of 1 lemon

2 tablespoons sugar

1/2 cup arborio rice

1 cup sliced fresh strawberries

Warm milk in saucepan and steep lemon zest in it for about 10 minutes, keeping the milk below a simmer.

Dissolve sugar in milk, then strain to remove zest.

Put rice in heavy saucepan and pour enough of hot milk to cover the rice. Stir over low heat until milk is absorbed. Keep adding hot milk and stirring until you've used all the milk and rice is plump and chewy, about 40 minutes.

Take risotto off heat and let cool a bit, stirring oven, for about 5 minutes. Stir in yogurt cheese and let cool completely. Stir in fresh strawberries

Refrigerate for at least 3 hours, covered, until chilled through. Stir well before serving.

Diana Shaw, Almost Vegetarian

Solitary Saturday

The kids and Mama have headed to see Ma, Gong, and Goo in the city, particularly to have dim sum and go to the beach, perhaps catching the ice cream truck this afternoon.

I am home alone. Of course, this isn't an unusual situation for me--between school, camp, nannies and babysitters--but something about it being a Saturday makes it special.

• I've purged magazines while watching through backlogged episodes of "David Rocco's La Dolce Vita;"
• read some of the NYTimes, but really can't bear to hear about Rick Perry or the Tea Party or the GOP, which leaves little left to peruse;
• rearranged the fridge magnets (okay, that just sounds pitiful, but they needed a purging) while listening to Broadway showtunes;
• sorted and trashed and saved various papers from the end of the school year (getting teary as I looked at their worksheets from the beginning of the year when they were learning letters);
• walked on my treadmill while reading through two UU Church of the Larger Fellowship tracts (one on grace, more on that later);
• prepared lunch--a big salad and a prepackaged risotto entree (that's going well--I've lost 5 lbs this week, probably a lot of water weight);
• and, now I'm blogging while watching an old "Glee."

And I still have about 5+ hours until they get home. I have some more sorting/cleaning/straightening to do (I paused midway to protect my back). Other than that, there's Italian, working on the historic house curriculum, and . . .

. . . The phone just rang and Mama Teacher is coming over. Off to put some coffee in the freezer for an afternoon chat!

It's shaping up to be a perfect day.

One Year Later

It was a year ago last night when I herniated my disc and started a year of recovery and re-injury. I've blogged about it all along, including practical advice for dealing with back pain, advice for friends of patients like me (and for patients like me), and several posts on gratitude (a couple here and here).

But here at the first anniversary mark of what has become a chronic condition, I wanted to reflect on the year which has taught me so much. That's not to say I'm glad I've had this experience--the pain, the limitations, the isolation, the disappointment, the vulnerability and fear, the uncomfortable personal and interpersonal insights, even the considerable expense--have been very hard. But one of the things I've been learning to do this year is not to dwell on those too much because it just makes everything worse. In the mean time, I've learned numerous valuable lessons which I hope will stand me in good stead.

• Common humanity: I have become more aware of the suffering (using the Buddhist term intentionally) around me and more connected to the people around me through it, as I described here. I have more compassion, more patience, for the weaknesses and faults and trials and challenges others and myself now . . .
• Compassion: the kindness of friends and family has been overwhelming and indispensable. From childcare to meals, from visits to email, from rides to errand help, and 6 weeks of TLC from my folks, I have witnessed and benefited from the compassion and generosity of others. And for all of this, I have lived in a continuous state of . . .
• Gratitude: I am thankful for my family and friends and for all of our privilege. It is hard not to want to pay everyone back, so to speak, for what they've done--but how do you pay back people for saving you?--so I will pay it forward.
• Power of the mind: this is a double-edged sword. My mind could take me to depths of despair and fear and anxiety and loneliness, but also to places of calm and resilience and patience and perseverance. And my mind kept me from teetering over the edge of boredom--learning colonial history, studying Italian, reading books on Buddhism. Through meditation, I have tried to lean one way more than the other. And, as Diana Nyad says, to be my most courageous self. Because it takes courage and stamina to walk through pain. But as I've learned the limits of my body, I've learned the limitlessness of my spirit. Adjacent to this is . . .
• Adapatability: I can adjust to a lot. I can do without. I can cope with change and live with limits and disappointment. I don't need what I thought I did. So can Mama Hungry. So can our kids, who have been amazing at adjusting to a mom who can't sit or bend or drive. When I drop things, they pick them up without thinking; when we have to find a way to play or color or read in an awkward position, they make it work without complaint. And when I do something, achieve something, I haven't in awhile--like come downstairs for dinner or go on an outing, they celebrate by dancing around and giving me high-fives. It's been wonderful to see their innate empathy.
• Personal Responsibility: I am much more aware of how my choices affect me and those around me. When I overdo it, Mama and the kids pay through my absence, in addition to the discomfort I experience. Or my folks give up weeks of their lives to come take care of us all. Or worry about us when they're not here. I have to own that while I don't intentionally cause any of that, I am the vehicle of it. And so I'm now much more vigilant in my movements, exercises, medications, diet, obligations. In a separate realm, I have also become much more pro-active in my own health care choices, realizing that I have to stay on top of doctors, diagnoses, medications, and pursue that which doesn't work or feel right. I'm usually really loyal to doctors, and loathe changing, but realize that gets me nowhere. I need to be my best self and find those who can help me.

It's not everything--and as months stretch into years, there will be more--but it's fundamentally altered who I am. And not just because disc L5-SI1 isn't what it should be. Only two other events have topped it for cumulative effect--falling in love with Mama and having children. And so while my back injury is literally a pain in my ass, it's not all bad.

The Moral of Harry Potter

Lily Potter

Narcissa Malfoy

Molly Weasley

Don't f**k with moms.

Yep, that's the lesson for today, folks. We just went to the movies to see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 (Bud begged to go with us, but nope. Not until he's read the books). I made it through the whole thing, pacing back and forth on the carpet leading to the exit. And when I could watch the vertiginous camera work through the amazing sets and scenes, I loved watching Narcissa Malfoy lie to Voldemort and then Molly Weasley destroy Bellatrix Lestrange. And of course, there's Lily Potter whose love, the most powerful magic of all, saved her son.

Sure, you can discuss Harry Potter from the perspective of Christian theology, Jungian archetypes, the hero's journey, the road from childhood to adulthood, all the literary and folkloric influences. And sure, it's named after the hero. But in the movie today, it was the moms who ruled.

(Well, and Prof. McGonagall and Neville Longbottom and Hermione and Ron and . . . and . . . and . . . )

Tunnel Vision

With about 2 1/2 weeks left of summer, I feel like I have tunnel vision, my eyes focused on a single day, the start of school. We're doing summer homework, checking clothing supplies, figuring out lunch ideas (this will be their first year to have lunch at school), considering changes to the morning and evening routine (do we need to get up a bit earlier because the bus will be earlier? do we need to push back bedtime to make room for play, homework, and dinner?), even considering reconfiguring some of the toy storage, all with an eye on the new school year. Which has the effect of condensing time. So, while all I have on the brain is the start of school, I'm trying hard to stay in the moment and enjoy the last of summer . . . and not infect the kids with my preoccupation. For them, school will be here soon enough.

Sneak Preview

It's 62F outside this morning, a tease of fall. And I love it!

Tenting Tonight

With our coat rack in the middle of the room and blankets and sheets attached via rubberband and festooned around the room, the kiddos are camping out in their room tonight. Sleeping bags, flashlights, books, pencils and paper, a later bedtime, everything but snacks and the sounds of the outdoors at night to complete the experience. And like any sleepover, I'm expecting the midnight discombobulation from sleeping under their floor under a giant, dark canopy to wake us all up. Still, it was a very happy bedtime.

Our Own Tutor

I count myself fortunate to have Mama Teacher as a friend for a variety of reasons. Most recently, however, I have been grateful for her professional expertise as a first-grade teacher. See, I always have questions. "Is this developmentally appropriate?" (See how I didn't use the word "normal" there?) "How do you know the age level of a book?" And today's--"Is summer homework stupid?"

For thirty minutes, we talked on that last one. As a mom, she said yes; as a teacher, she said no. Which means she hasn't had her son do his yet either but feels immensely guilty about it (in fact, she's lost the math packet! Okay, I'm not laughing at you, Mama Teacher. I'm just glad to know teachers are like the rest of us about homework.) She had some suggestions for getting through homework. Give them a break after school and do the homework later. Divide and conquer, having Mama take one child and me the other. Or, separate them spatially or sequentially. She also breaks worksheets into thirds, using a divided file folder that flips open, and lets her son take breaks in between sections. Clever. She also assured me that as a teacher she would not judge our summer homework efforts too harshly; indeed, she admitted that homework tests the parents as much as it does the child. (I'm not sure that made me feel better, exactly.)

The other day when she visited, she even sat and read with Sis, who was thrilled to have a new listener (anyone but her moms). I picked up so many tips on how to instruct a beginning reader--how to slide through the syllables of unfamiliar words, how to suggest sounding out syllables (ooops, forgot the teacher lingo for letter groupings), how to encourage and support gently, even how to know if a book is too hard (5 finger rule: if they don't know 1-2 words on a page, it's the right level; if they don't know 3-5 words, it's too hard) . Interestingly, she said Sis is almost a purely sight word reader, meaning she just doesn't read phonetically despite that being the focus in school. We could tell that because she sees the first letter of a word and guesses based on textual and illustrated context. And once she sees a word once or twice, she usually has it memorized. (Bud, on the other hand, is almost purely a phonetic reader.) Such insights really help. Especially as I balance being a straight-A, Phi Beta Kappa, Ivy League grad with being a more laid back, well-rounded, encouraging mom.

Which is why I not half-jokingly offered to hire her as a tutor . . . so someone else has to deal with homework!!

(By the way, just when summer homework has me again considering home or unschooling, I read a quote on a blog that said they were a "life-learning family, supplementing our experiences with public school." I like it.)

Not an Ordinary Miracle

Fantastic, fabulous, incredible news: my beloved aunt is doing so well after many dark days. She is eating, sitting up some, even able to move enough to open a letter and read it. Her surgical wounds are healing nicely, the feeding tube is gone, and she has even progressed enough to be moved to a lower level of care next week. It really is almost unbelievable. And if Sarah Mclachlan sings of "Ordinary Miracles," this one just seems extra.

You Have to Be Carefully Taught

The kids have little tripartite banks they received at school that are labeled "spend, save, share." They were fascinated by the three slots and enjoyed putting money in each, not caring what the category was.

Like most 6-year olds, my kids vacillate between utterly selfish and surprisingly generous. There's really little telling when one will fetch a lovey and a bandaid for the other . . . or knock'em down again.

Of course, as Mom, I want to encourage the former, stress the "share" part of the piggy bank. We haven't done any family volunteer activities, mainly because of my situation this last year, but do regularly involve the kids in giving--to the food pantry, the coat drive, the gift collection at Christmas and Easter for kids in the shelter, and even sending money, including a part of their Chinese New Year money, to animal projects, the Red Cross during disasters, and the like.

And then I read Nicholas Kristof's Op-Ed today about Rachel, a young girl who routinely cut her hair for Locks of Love and also canceled her birthday party and had friends donate $9 each for clean water for children in Africa. Tragically, a month after her birthday, she was injured in a car accident and later died. In her name, $960,000 has been collected, up from the $220 she collected from her birthday. It's not what her family must have imagined for her ninth year, but it's a beautiful gift in her memory.

Similarly, and closer to home, a wonderful project is taking place in Austin, Texas, in honor of Janna Plentl, a friend of my family's, whose life was similarly cut short by non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. She was an architect devoted to environmental causes and this year Austin's Habitat for Humanity is building a green house for a single mom with funds raised in Janna's honor and matched by her family.

We'll be donating to both causes, with the kids, who will also start getting $3 a week to put in those banks of theirs so that they, too, can learn to give to others, just like Rachel and Janna.